


Brothers in Arms

by jotunemo



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Asgardian Family Drama, Awesome Frigga (Marvel), Brother Feels, Canon Divergence - Thor: The Dark World, Comfort, Everything is Odin's Fault, Frigga (Marvel) Lives, Gen, Hurt, Loki Angst, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki coming undone, Loki is in pain, Mind Control Aftermath, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, POV Frigga, POV Loki (Marvel), POV Thor (Marvel), Post Avengers, Protective Frigga (Marvel), Protective Siblings, Protective Thor (Marvel), Self-Harm, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Thor: The Dark World What If, Torture, brotherly conflict, family sucks, frigga is the best mom to ever exist, i love frigga, identity crisis, odin is being odin, well maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22516108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jotunemo/pseuds/jotunemo
Summary: The Bifrost is repaired. The peace across the Realms is re-established. All of Asgard revels. Well, almost all of Asgard. Thor, Son of Odin, still mourns for his brother and one day, he defies his father's orders and visits Loki in the dungeons with the encouragement of his mother and Lady Sif.
Relationships: Frigga | Freyja & Loki (Marvel), Loki & Odin (Marvel), Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 133





	1. I merely wished to see you

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as an OS but then I turned it into two chapters on fanfiction.net and I am quite fond of it. I am currently looking for ways to continue it, so if you like it, please comment so that I know it will be worth my time.

Thor was leaning against one of the stone pillars in the atrium, gazing into the starry night as he brought his mug of mead to his lips and took a long, satisfying drink. He could no longer tell how much of the devilishly sweet poison he had already consumed but that was just as well. It was beginning to numb the pain inside his chest and that was all that mattered. Behind him, the sound of festivities in the banqueting hall of Asgard began to fade into a dull murmur and his vision started to blur slightly at the edges. If he emptied two or maybe three more mugs, he would fall into a dreamless slumber and, for once, he would not think of—

A soft voice rang out somewhere beside him, speaking his name. He glanced around and spotted Lady Sif, who was stepping forth from the shadows.

“You have retreated again,” she stated, her forehead wrapped in a frown of concern.

“I am enjoying the view,” Thor replied, his tongue lying heavy in his mouth.

“The view, hm?” Sif raised an eyebrow at him, not bothering to mask how worried she was. “You are quite drunk, aren’t you?”

Thor forced himself to meet her gaze. “So? Have you come here to lecture me?”

“Not at all,” Sif replied. “I have come here because I am worried about you.” When he motioned her to continue with a clumsy nod, she said, “I know you doubt that I could possibly imagine what you are going through, but I know the feeling quite well.” She sighed and then her hand traveled to his arm, squeezing it gently. “It is one of life’s greatest hardships when you cannot be with the one who you truly wish to spend all of your time with.”

Thor felt his mouth gape open in surprise. “You think this is about Jane Foster?”

“Please,” said Sif. “You need not spare my feelings. I have accepted long ago that you only see me as a companion.”

“This isn’t about Jane,” Thor clarified, feeling his anger rise. Why did everyone assume that his heart was breaking over a mortal woman whom he was able to visit anytime he pleased now that the Bifrost was fully restored?

“No?” Sif looked unconvinced. “Then who else would it be about?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Thor mumbled, dropping his head in embarrassment.

“Then tell me,” Sif demanded after a moment of silence.

“I-I can’t,” Thor stammered, his vision suddenly blurring far more than he had ever intended, images he had tried so hard to forget in the previous months mingling into the fuzzy nightscape in front of his eyes.

“Thor,” pleaded Sif. “We have been friends for eons unthinkable.” She squeezed his arm once more. “You can trust me.” She paused meaningfully. “With _any_ thing.”

Thor felt his emotional defenses going up but at the same time, he knew that she was speaking true. They had been friends for a long time and he had always been able to confide in her. Deep within his heart, he knew that she would not judge him. Maybe at first, yes, but she would eventually try to see his perspective.

Sif was looking at him expectantly.

“I miss my brother,” Thor finally conceded, the words gaining so much more force once he had spoken them out loud. “I know I shouldn’t, but I do,” he continued, the truth breaking out of him before he could stop himself. “We have been together all this time and now father forbids me to see him?” He brought his cup to his lip once more and took another swig. “He is still my brother, Sif!” he howled. “This is not fair.”

Sif pulled him into a hug and simultaneously removed the mug from his hand with one swift motion. “Have you talked to the Queen?”

Thor peeled himself out of her arms and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “How could I?” He huffed a sad laugh. “Father is urging me to take the throne. I cannot possibly disappoint him again by questioning”—he stumbled over the s and the word came out in a slur—“the rightfulness of Loki’s sentence. Not now.” He paused thoughtfully. “Not even in front of my mother.”

“It is not as if Lady Frigga is not doing the same thing,” Sif whispered conspirationally.

Thor’s befuddled brain needed a moment to unpack the meaning of her double negative. “What are you saying? That she is going against father’s orders?”

Sif gave a nod. “I am sure this must remain secret but I caught her by surprise the other day when I walked into her chambers and I saw that she uses her magic to send illusions to Loki. She also does everything in her power to make him as comfortable as possible.”

“As I imagine she would,” Thor mumbled and, suddenly, he yearned for her comfort as fiercely as he had when he had been nothing but a boy. He looked into the hall, his gaze searching for her among the reveling Asgardians.

“She has already retreated to her chambers for the night,” said Sif and he felt a stab of disappointment in his stomach. “And so should you. You are not well, Thor.”

“Nonsense,” he exclaimed. “I am drunk, is all.”

“Which is my point exactly.” She smiled at him and, despite the brick of grief that had settled inside his stomach, Sif’s smile warmed his heart as few things in all the Realms ever could. “Come on, I will escort you to your chambers. And tomorrow morning, you tell the Queen about this. I am sure she will be delighted to see you worrying about Loki.”

“You really think so?” Thor asked.

“Oh, please,” said Sif. “There is no person in any of Realms that loves your brother more than she does.”

* * *

The next morning, Thor found his mother in her garden after he had spent the night in an uneasy sleep filled with ghastly visions of a deranged Loki leading a Chitauri army into Midgard. Thor cleared his throat, loathe to disrupt her moment of peace.

She turned to face him, a sad smile playing upon her lips. “Thor.” She rose immediately. “How do you fare, my son?”

He could sense the worry in her voice and her tone stirred up unwanted feelings of need inside of him. “Why would you even ask such a thing of me? I am well.”

“I could not help but notice,” said Frigga, Queen of Asgard, as she crossed the distance between them, “that you seem to be deriving a little too much comfort from the drink lately.” She stood right in front of him now, her hand traveling to his chin and cupping it gently. “What ails you so, my son?”

Thor had practiced a million different speeches when he had walked from his chambers to his mother’s gardens but everything he had thought he would say was instantly forgotten when his mother looked at him like that. “Sif told me you have been visiting Loki,” he blurted out.

“I have sent spectral apparitions of myself to converse with him, yes,” Frigga clarified, her voice dripping with the same pain that he felt inside his chest. “But I have not _visited_ him.”

Thor gulped.

“I wish I could,” Frigga continued. “He is in sore need of my presence. As, I suppose, are you.” Without any further warning, she looped her arms around him and cradled him to her chest.

Thor savored the gesture for a moment, allowing the love for his mother to fill the hole inside his chest, before he tore himself free. “Are you at all mad at him sometimes?” he asked, knowing that he could no longer keep at bay the emotions he had been trying to hold off by fighting the foul creatures that had used the Bifrost’s destruction and Asgard’s helplessness to their advantage and by drinking himself into a stupor after every victory. “Because I am. I am _so_ angry that he betrayed me like this. On some days, I am glad that he is locked away and that I do not have to endure his scathing humor and his hostility towards me but then, on other days, I just …”

“You miss him,” said Frigga.

“I do,” Thor confessed in a low voice. “And I just want to _understand_ what happened. He had everything and still he …” He left the rest of the sentence hanging in the air, not daring to give it a voice.

Frigga reached for his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “No, he did not,” she corrected him, tears pooling into her benign blue eyes. “Loki is very troubled. He always has been. Even from a very young age, there has been a shadow growing inside his heart. I thought I could kindle enough light in him to make it go away but I …” She let go of his hand and turned away.

“What?” asked Thor.

“I am mad at myself mostly,” Frigga conceded quietly. “All these years and I never managed to, well, I think I could have made a difference if only I had—”

“Mother, please,” Thor interrupted her gently, pulling her back towards him. “You did everything you could. You loved him more than anyone and you always made sure that he knew it. There is no better mother than you in all the Nine Realms and beyond.”

“And yet I lied,” Frigga whispered, choking on the words. “I lied to him for more than a thousand years. I could have told him what he was from the beginning. I could have prevented his breakdown. But I did not. And why?”

“Well,” Thor began, “if I were to hazard a guess, I would say that you did not tell him because father forbade you to reveal the truth.” Frigga laughed a desperate, toneless laugh that encouraged Thor to continue. “The same way he is forbidding us to see him now.” He drew a sharp breath. “And this is _not_ right. It has been _months_ , mother! Is he ever going to alter the sentence?”

“I do not know,” Frigga conceded.

“This is not _right_!” Thor yelled.

Tears glistered in the Queen’s eyes. “Thor, please.”

Thor narrowed his eyes at her. “What?”

“Believe me, I am _trying_ to convince your father to alter the sentence but you know him as well as I do. You know how stubborn he is. If we are to convince him, we must proceed with care.” Frigga smiled sadly. “There is a reason for everything—”

“For everything he does, yeah, I know,” Thor finished for her. He had heard that speech more than a hundred times. “I also know that he is not only my father but my _King_ and that I am sworn to obey him.” He took another breath to steady himself. “But what if I no longer believe in the justness of his verdicts?”

Frigga looked at him with an interest he had never seen in her eyes before.

“Loki is your _son_!” Thor continued far more urgently than he probably would have had to. “And he is my _brother_. Father cannot just _decide_ that we are never going to see him again! That is _bullshit_!”

Frigga was startled by his choice of words. “What did you just say?”

“Bullshit,” Thor repeated. “It is an expression that Midgardians use to refer to something truly outrageous. Which is what this _is_.” He searched for his mother’s eyes. “Did you know that most of Midgard does not even _have_ kings anymore? One person who decides what is best for everyone? One person whose powers are unchallenged and unquestioned? That is not wise.”

Despite the severity of the matter they were discussing, Frigga’s face lit up with a pleasant smile. “You will make Asgard very proud when you are made king,” his mother told him. “You will bring about a sorely needed change and lead us all into a new age.”

“Yeah, well,” Thor replied. He was still wary of the responsibility he had so fiercely craved until Odin had exiled him to Midgard and he had understood that the brutality of the sacrifices a king had to make would forever change him. “We will see about that.”

“I have faith in you, my love,” said Frigga before she steered the conversation back to his brother once more. “Loki knows that you love him and that he loves you. He might not be able to remember it right now but, at the bottom of his heart, he knows it. You just need to give him time. You must be patient.”

Thor huffed a laugh. “You know as well as I do that patience has never been my strong suit.” Frigga locked eyes with him and Thor instantly knew that she knew what was going to happen next. “I will not wait for him to remember,” said Thor. “I will remind him.” He paused. “Right now.”

“And I will not stop you,” said Frigga.

* * *

Thor descended the stairs leading deep into the belly of the Realm Eternal, his steps echoing off the walls of stone. It was cold in the weapon’s vault but it was colder in the dungeons still and he shuddered. When he approached the entrance doors, two armed guards rose from the two chairs positioned on either side of the door and bowed their heads. “My Lord Thor.”

“I wish to have a word with my brother.”

The guards exchanged a quick glance. “But my Lord, the sentence—”

“I know of it, obviously,” Thor replied, “but it is important that I speak with Loki. Now, I do not _want_ to fight you but if you deny me passage, fight you I shall.”

The guards seemed to gauge his threat for a few heartbeats but, eventually, they stepped aside in awe and so Thor walked the length of the corridor with its magically sealed cells until he came to the one that imprisoned his brother. He drew a sharp breath, stealing himself for the encounter, and then stepped towards the glass that was pulsating with the Seiðr of old. His brother was clad in casual leathers of green and brown, his bare feet slipped into a pair of loafers, and he was lounging in an armchair, his gaze focused on a book in his lap. He did not seem overly troubled but, then again, he never did when he was reading.

Thor cleared his throat. “Loki?”

Loki glanced up from his book and his lips parted. He appeared to be confused for the fraction of a second but then his mouth curled into a devious grin. “Thor,” he spat.

Even though he knew he should have anticipated this, Thor was taken aback by the hostility in his brother’s words and eyes. “I have come to—”

“What a glorious sight!” Loki exclaimed, slamming his book shut. “The Son of Odin chooses to grace me with his presence, disobeying his father’s commands.” He rose, glowering at him as he stepped closer to the barrier. “I suppose I should be rather grateful that I have lived long enough to witness such a marvel.”

Before he could stop himself, Thor chuckled. Loki was still glowering at him. “What is so funny?”

Thor cleared his throat, pondering his next words. “It is funny how, despite all that rage and hatred I know is beating inside your chest right now, I still missed your company.”

Loki huffed a mirthless laugh. “You should really leave the lying to me. It does not suit you.”

“I have never lied to you in all my life,” Thor countered. “You should know that.”

“Of course not,” Loki snarled. “We all know you are the virtuous one, brother.”

Despite Loki’s intractability, Thor felt a genuine smile creeping onto his lips. “So, you still think of me as your brother?”

Loki’s brows drew together in a suspicious frown. “What?”

“You just called me _brother_ ,” Thor said, waiting for Loki’s reaction.

“Force of habit,” Loki replied briskly. “What do you want?”

“I do not want anything,” Thor told his brother with a hesitant smile. “I merely wished to see you.”

“And seen me you have,” Loki replied curtly, turning away again.

“Brother, please,” Thor mumbled, unsure how he would ever manage to engage Loki in a conversation when so much rage and hatred still filled his heart. “I … Don’t you feel the urge to speak about, well, you know. Don’t you want to—”

Loki swung around again, boring his ice-cold gaze into him. “I want you to leave.”

Thor cleared his throat. “No, you don’t.” He locked eyes with Loki, forcing himself not to break the contact. “I know you don’t.”

Loki bristled. “You have never known much, though, have you?”

Thor exhaled a breath he did not know he had been holding. “I will not deny that I am angry with you still,” he began, taking a leap of faith. “We grew up as brothers. You were my _best_ friend, Loki. You should have known that I would not have treated you any differently after coming to know that you are not my brother by blood. You could have come to me and I would have been there for you but, instead of reaching out, you chose to keep me exiled, tell me the lie of our father’s demise and send the Destroyer to kill me.”

“You know what they say on Midgard, don’t you, brother?” Loki snickered. “What does not kill you makes you stronger.”

“You have betrayed my love and my trust,” Thor continued, ignoring his brother’s remark. “And I will not pretend it does not ail me still.”

“And I will weep for you,” Loki snarled, leaning forward, hands clasped behind his back. “You have been through so much, haven’t you?” he continued, his voice dripping with so much contempt that the very blood in Thor’s veins seemed to freeze at the sound. “I will pray to the Norns that they relieve you of all your torment.”

Before he could stop himself, a frustrated cry escaped Thor’s lips and then he lunged forward, his fist crashing into the magical barrier of his brother’s cell. As soon as his hand touched the yellowishly gleaming surface, he felt a sharp stab of pain and he stumbled backwards, taken aback by the powerful sensation.

“You really should not have done that,” Loki told him cheerily. “The barrier is quite strong. It will give you a nasty burn.”

Thor grunted, cradling his injured hand to his chest. “I wish to help you,” he said, his voice sounding hoarser than he would have liked it to sound. “I am sure I can convince father to alter your punishment but you have to help me too.” The thought had been silently growing inside of his mind for the past weeks but now it bore fruit. “You need to tell me what happened to you.”

His brother’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

“After you fell,” Thor began, groping for the right words and knowing that he was never going to find them no matter how hard he tried, “something happened to you. I can tell. That insane stare in New York? That was not you. I _know_ that it was not. You are not the kind of person that would attack another planet out of _greed_!”

Loki worked his jaw and a flicker of madness blazed in his stare. “Well, I am not really a person though, am I?”

“Nonsense,” Thor objected. “Of course you are a person. You are my brother.”

Loki bared his teeth. “Odin begs to differ. He would—”

“Let me stop you right there!” Thor yelled before he could contain his emotions. “If he really did not think of you as his son anymore, do you not think he would have taken your appearance away, leaving you to waste away in this cell in your Frost Giant body?”

Loki’s lips parted in surprise.

“See? He still cares,” Thor brought himself to say even though he did not truly believe it himself. “And so do I. Just talk to me, Loki.”

“There is nothing to talk about,” Loki snarled.

“Yes, there is,” Thor continued softly. “Remember when I asked you who showed you all this power? I know that attacking Midgard was _not_ your idea. Someone convinced you to do that.” He paused. “Who?”

“No one convinced me to do anything,” Loki claimed but his voice was trembling softly.

Thor frowned at him, checking his brother’s face for the slightest sign of emotion. “I don’t believe you.”

“You should go now,” Loki said.

“No,” Thor countered. “I will not leave you until you told me what happened to you.”

“Then prepare to be here for a very long time,” Loki replied, settling back into his armchair and picking up the book he had been reading.

“Do you not under _stand_?” Thor cried out. He was angry that his brother was purposefully ignoring him but, at the same time, his heart began to ache for him when he realized that Loki had spent months in this cell with nothing but books to keep him company. “If it wasn’t your fault—”

“It _was_ my fault,” Loki cut him off without looking up from his book.

“Fine,” Thor grumbled. He turned away for show, murmuring, seemingly to himself but loud enough for Loki to hear, “I bet Mother will be able to get the truth out of you.”

Loki was on his feet in an instant. “No!”

Thor turned around to watch Loki step closer to the barrier, extending his hand towards him. When his skin grazed the ancient magic pulsating through the dungeons, a shimmer of green light enveloped his brother’s frame and the illusion he had presented to him faded into a gruesome sight. Loki’s hair, which had been slicked back before, was now unkempt and lusterless. His cheeks were even paler than before, if that was at all possible, and his eyes were red-rimmed, dark circles spreading out below them.

“Loki,” Thor gasped.

“I cannot speak of this,” Loki whispered, the tremor in his voice sending shivers of fear down Thor’s spine. “And neither can you.”

“You would rather endure this sentence, which prevents you from seeing me or even Mother, than to confide in me?” Thor asked, his voice breaking.

Loki did not hesitate for as much as heartbeat before he gave his answer. “I am where I belong.”

“Loki, I—” Thor began but then realization hit him. “If that is your choice, I cannot help you.”

“I do not expect you to,” Loki said.

Thor cleared his throat. “I will comply with your wish then,” he said, his intestines churning, “and leave you alone.”

“Thank you,” Loki pressed out.

Thor knew that Loki did not truly want this—he could feel his brother’s longing for his company pulsating through the air as much as he could sense the magic emanating from the cells—but he turned away nonetheless because he knew, too, that he could not impose his help on him until Loki was willing to accept it.

“Goodbye then,” Thor whispered.

“Goodbye, brother,” Loki whispered almost intimately, shattering Thor’s heart into a million pieces as he walked away from the cell and back into reality.


	2. I hope I can still save you

The Queen of Asgard closed the door of her chambers behind her with a soft thud and reached for the magic inside of her, feeling for any signature in the room that was not her own. When she was satisfied that she was entirely alone, she moved her hands in a circular motion and conjured a flickering surface glimmering in the same soft blue as her eyes. 

She sighed when the image of her son materialized on the projection after a few heartbeats. Loki was lying on his bed, seemingly asleep, an open book covering most of his face. The fingers of his right hand were softly brushing against the book’s binding while his left hand was playing with the fabric of the blanket. 

“Something happened to him, Mother,” Thor had said to her in a trembling voice after his visit to the dungeons. “Something terrible.” He had been reluctant to confide in her at first and, knowing them both, Frigga had instantly deduced that Loki had asked him not to tell her and that Thor was not a man to break a promise.

“Whatever you tell me,” she had assured Thor softly, “it is not news to me. I have known for a long time that something happened to him.” She had known ever since she had finally caught a horrifying glimpse of Loki after searching the galaxies for any sign of him for months after his fall, finding him pale and sweating, with hollow cheeks, unwashed hair and a wild stare in his eyes.

“Loki,” Frigga had gasped, reaching out to him in her astral form, full of hope that the son whom she had feared dead would finally return home.

He had instantly picked up on the magical connection she had at last been able to establish with him from her chambers, turning towards her with a cold gaze that held nothing of the light she had tried so hard to instill in him. “I am sorry,” Loki had told her, his voice a soft, unforgiving growl. “Now just isn’t a good time.” And then he had simply dispersed the spectral apparition she had sent to converse with him.

Yes, something terrible had happened to her son. Frigga knew that. But she knew just as well that Loki was never going to speak of it. Every night for the past four months, she had retired to her chambers for an hour before lying down beside her husband for the night in order to watch Loki in his magical cage in order to make sure he was not trying to escape or harm himself. Most of these nights, he had been still awake reading, fleeing from the dismal reality of his imprisonment, his gaze focused on the words on the pages, his lips pinched together in concentration. Loki had always been an enthusiastic reader and even from a very young age, Frigga had suspected that focusing his attention on a book was one of the few things that stilled his racing mind. He might have scorned the books she had sent to him at first, snarling at her if she wanted him to while away eternity reading, but he had already read more than one-hundred-fifty books during his confinement.

The volume he was currently reading bore the title _Mirror Dimension_ and Frigga shivered slightly when she realized that, even if he might not be able to perform any magic except for simple illusions in his cell at this moment, he would memorize the spells nonetheless.

She watched Loki for a while, her heart aching for the son that had been torn from her grasp by madness, Asgardian justice and whatever agony he had suffered through after his fall into the abyss. Frigga did not know whether Loki would ever return to them and the thought pained her so much that she turned away. 

Just as she was about to disperse the projection, Loki moaned softly in his sleep, forcing her to turn her attention to her son once more. Loki’s head jerked to the side, sending the book tumbling onto the bed beside him. He moaned again, his fingers clutching the blanket so tightly that his knuckles stood out white. “No … please,” he whimpered. “Don’t …” His brows drew together in fear and terror. “Don’t,” he whimpered again and a tear spilled out of his closed eye. 

Frigga did not waste a second to conjure a spectral apparition of herself, which she sent into Loki’s cell. She knew he would not want her to see him so vulnerable, especially not after their last conversation, but a mother’s instinct was to protect her child from pain and danger at all costs. And how direly Loki was in need of her protection! He was writhing beneath his thin covers like a snake, violently jerking away from the terrors lurking inside his troubled mind, his breathing heavy and beads of sweat glistering on his lips and forehead.

“Loki,” Frigga whispered with a tight chest as she reached out to touch him, to comfort him, even though she knew that she could not.

“Noooooo!” Loki yelped and then his eyes flew open. He startled into a sitting position, panting heavily.

“Loki,” Frigga whispered once more, her hand hovering in the air. Her son’s lips trembled as he tried to shake off the shadowy ephemera of his nightmare. He stretched out his hand as well and glanced up at her illusion, his eyes silently pleading for help, comfort, salvation. 

The expression of brokenness in Loki’s eyes and all the emotions that were for once unguarded in those few seconds, in which dream and reality had not yet fully disentangled, drove Frigga to her knees. As her physical body yielded, her illusion moved closer to her son and placed a hand onto his shaking shoulder as if it would not pass right through his flesh in a faint glimmer of green.

Loki exhaled a trembling breath when he remembered where he was and that he was never to see or touch her again. His eyes narrowed to slits. “Leave,” he commanded her in a quavering whisper. “Leave me alone.” He sank back onto the bed and turned his back towards her.

“Loki,” Frigga whispered for the third time, not knowing what else to say. There used to be a time when her voice had been comfort to him but they were long past that. _Something happened to him, Mother_. _Something terrible_.

“Leave. Me. Alone.” Loki’s voice was colder and sharper than ice and Frigga knew she had no choice but to comply. She whispered her goodbyes and dissolved her illusion. Back in her chambers, she glanced at the projection one more time and watched with a heart that sat almost physically heavy in her chest how her son curled up on his prison cod like a fetus, hugging his legs and sobbing himself back into a fitful sleep.

A single tear trickled down the Queen’s right cheek as she dispersed the projection. She brushed it away but more tears pooled into her eyes and blurred her vision, sobs clawing at her throat. “He is not my father!” Loki had yelled at her several weeks ago when she had tried to explain to him that there was a reason for everything Odin did. When she had asked him if that meant that she was not his mother either, she had expected him to deny this but instead he had said, “You’re not.”

Even though she knew that Loki had uttered those words in sheer despair, that they were a bandage he had wrapped around his bleeding heart, they still hurt because Frigga knew them to be true. Thor had assured her that there was no better mother in any of the Nine Realms and beyond but, while she appreciated her son’s esteem, she knew that her eldest was only seeing half the picture. He worshipped her because she had never failed him the way she had failed Loki. She had not been the mother she could have been, should have been. But she would be. By Odin’s Ravens, she would be.

She let her tears run dry and left her chambers in search for her husband. 

* * *

As if sensing the confrontation that awaited him, Odin Allfather was nowhere to be found that night. Frigga did not see him until he joined her at breakfast in her garden the following morning where she was absentmindedly slicing an apple. The King spoke no greeting when he arrived. He merely nodded at her with a grim expression on his face as he lowered his body into the chair opposite from her, Húginn and Múninn perching on each of his shoulders.

“Good morning,” Frigga whispered. She put both apple and knife down when she saw in her husband’s face that he already knew of Thor’s transgression and what she was going to ask of him.

“My ravens have come to me with many glad tidings lately,” Odin began, his cold, unforgiving voice oozing authority. He glared at her and clasped his hands in front of his stomach as he settled back into the chair. “Can you imagine how disappointed I am to hear that my own son and wife would conspire against me during such prosperous times?”

Frigga gulped, groping for the right words.

“Say something,” Odin snarled at her.

“I worry about our sons,” the Queen began. “About both of them. They have—”

“Loki is no longer my son,” Odin spoke over her as he reached for a slice of the apple she had abandoned on the table.

His words shook Frigga’s very core. “What did you say?”

“I said that I no longer consider Loki my son,” Odin repeated but his grim expression softened a little when he saw the fresh tears glistering in her eyes. “Frigga, what he did …” His voice trailed off. 

“I know what he did,” Frigga told him, the list of Loki’s crimes ever visible in her mind’s eye. Abuse of Asgard’s most powerful weapon. Abuse of the Bifröst for the obliteration of hostile forces. Destruction of the Bifröst. Violation of the peace treaty with Jotunheim. Declaration of war upon Midgard and slaughter of innocent mortals. Violation of the Allfather’s oath of protection. And worst of all, his attempt to end his brother’s life. Betrayal was and had always been the Aesir’s most hated crime and it remained punishable by death if an Asgardian tried to take another Asgardian’s life.

“Then why are you questioning my verdict?” Odin asked, drilling his one-eyed gaze into her. “Why are you betraying the express commands of your King?”

“Because we bear part of the blame,” Frigga said softly and once the words were out of her mouth, they pained her even more. “Loki would never have come undone in such a way if we had not lied to him all those years.”

Odin’s good eye narrowed. “If we had told him the truth as a boy, he would have only lost his mind that much sooner.”

Frigga shook her head. “You cannot know this.”

“I do know this as I know everything that transpires in the Realms.”

 _Did you know that most of Midgard does not even have kings anymore?_ Thor’s words echoed through Frigga’s skull. _One person who decides what is best for everyone? One person whose powers are unchallenged and unquestioned? That is not wise_. Her son’s words and his unshakable belief in her importance gave Frigga courage. She straightened in her chair and asked, “If you knew, then why did you bring him into Asgard? Why did you let me raise a boy as my own that you knew was going to attempt to kill your first-born son?”

Odin’s flat hand slammed onto the table with such force that Frigga startled but she continued nonetheless. “Is all of this not your fault then?”

Odin barked a laugh. “What happened that turned you so rebellious, hm?”

Frigga recoiled at how he belittled her but the shock and the anger gave her even more strength. “You might see everything that transpires in the Realms, yet you remain blind to what happens in your own home. First Hela—”

“How dare you speak this name?” Odin hissed quietly. 

“Then Thor and Loki,” Frigga continued as she rose, her husband mirroring her movements. She thought of the look of terror and forlornness on Loki’s face, thought of how much he needed her and of how much he despised himself for needing her. “Do you still not see that all three of them hungered for your love and your esteem and that one of the reasons Loki lost his mind and committed those crimes is because you let him _starve_?”

Odin lunged towards her, slapping her face. “I am the Allfather, woman! Do you think I would have been able to keep us safe for as long as I have if I had let myself be distracted by matters of the heart?”

Frigga exhaled a trembling breath and brushed her fingertips against her stinging cheek. Faced with such despicable treatment, she swore to herself that she would no longer cower before him. “You dare to raise your hand against me?” she hissed. “After all I have done for you?”

A look of terror and incredulity flickered across Odin’s face. “Forgive me,” he mumbled.

“I am aware of what Loki did to us. I am aware of the darkness growing inside his heart and have been for a long time,” Frigga told him firmly, reciting the words she had practiced when she had waited for him the previous night. “I am also aware that his actions cannot go unpunished. I will, however, no longer tolerate that I shall not see him. The darkness inside him will grow even more if he wastes away in this cell day after day; persuading himself that he does not deserve either my company or my comfort.”

“He does not deserve your comfort,” Odin snorted and his face twisted into a grimace of pain and sorrow. “He tried to kill our son, Frigga. Our _real_ son.”

“Loki is as much your son as Thor!” Frigga yelled. “You brought him here for a purpose I have never dared to question but it was you— _you!_ —who thrust him into my arms and told me to raise him! You told him stories, balanced him on your knees, kissed him goodnight.” Tears for a past long lost spilled out of her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. “How can you say that he is not your son?” Frigga wept. “Have you no heart?”

“I do,” said Odin, “and it broke when he strayed off his path. But I am King. I must see the threat he poses to Asgard because that is something _you_ are blind to, my love.”

“I am not blind,” Frigga whispered, mentally flinching from the term of endearment. “I watched him in his cell. He is in so much pain. Something terribly agonizing must have happened to him and he will not speak of it.”

Odin shook his head vehemently but his resistance was slowly beginning to crumble.

“You and I both know that Loki was not sane when he sent the Destroyer after Thor and that he was even less sane when he attacked Midgard,” Frigga continued, her voice gaining force. “Someone bred the madness and the darkness inside of him after he fell and that someone might be an even bigger threat to us than any of the Marauders Thor has been fighting back. But Loki will not tell us anything if we keep him locked away like an animal.”

“You cannot suggest that we let him walk free as if no crime had been committed,” Odin mumbled.

“No,” said Frigga. “But I will talk to him in the flesh whenever I please from now on and so will Thor. I will further let him out to take a walk with me every once in a while. Those are my terms.” She caught Odin’s gaze and held it even though her heart was beating so fast that she feared it might shatter any moment. 

“You and Thor may speak to him,” Odin finally relented. “But I will not allow anyone to break the seal of magic around his cell. If anything happened—if he escaped or hurt one more Asgardian—it would weigh too heavily on your mind. Besides,” he finished, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, “if you tried, you would find that even your magic is not powerful enough to break the seal.”

Frigga gave a nod, fully aware of the threat he had left unsaid. “I understand.”

“Good.” That said, Odin turned away and left her to her breakfast, which she hastily swept into a basket with her magic before she took herself to the dungeons to look after her son in the flesh after four long months.

* * *

Loki was pacing the length of his cell when Frigga arrived after a brief conversation with the baffled guards, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze focused on the floor. He was clad in the same casual leathers of green and brown he had worn when she had last seen him by day but his feet were bare.

Frigga clutched the picnic basket to her chest and cleared her throat. “Loki?”

He swung around and stared at her with his brilliant emerald eyes that burned with a feral green light. Oh, those beautiful, intelligent eyes. Frigga smiled. “Hello, my son.”

“Do _not_ call me that,” Loki snapped at her in a soft growl. “Just tell me what ails Asgard enough for me to suddenly receive visitors with such frequency.” His eyes flickered angrily but there was an edge of fear to his voice and Frigga knew that her son was aware of a threat lurking beyond their borders that none of them could even fathom.

“I had words with the King,” said Frigga, careful not to refer to Odin as his father again just now, “and your sentence has been altered. It took me a while but you are now allowed to see us.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Frigga asked back.

Loki shook his head and a sound that was half-sigh, half-cackle escaped his lips. “It matters not. I do not wish to see you, _Mother_ ,” he mocked her and turned away. “Please, go.”

Frigga gulped. “I am sorry, Loki. I don’t think I ever properly apologized to you for keeping the circumstances of your birth secret from you.”

“The circumstances of my birth,” Loki echoed thoughtfully, his teeth pulling at his lower lip as he glared at her over his shoulder. “That is a dreadfully euphemistic way of putting it, don’t you think?”

 _If only his mind was a little less sharp, a little less quick, a little less self-destructive, he might be able to save himself_ , Frigga sighed inwardly. “Maybe,” she said, “but the truth that remains is that I am deeply sorry. I know you did not deserve such treatment but he would not let me tell you. He would not let me see you either but this time, I opposed him because—”

Loki was still glowering at her. “Because what?”

 _Because I have seen that you are in pain_. _Because I know that you need me_. _Because I know that you are lonely_. _Because I can only imagine the unspeakable torment you have suffered_. _Because I know that you long to speak about it, long for comfort, but would never permit yourself to be vulnerable even for one moment_. _Because I hope I can still save you_.

Frigga said none of those things. What she said was, “Because I love you.”

Loki snorted a laugh. “Yes, thank you for that.”

“Loki, please,” Frigga pleaded softly. “I _am_ your mother. I will always be your mother. Can you not see that?”

He shook his head, tears springing to his eyes, and she realized with a sudden clarity that all the pain he was trying to mask with his sarcasm and his wrath would pose too much of a threat to what was left of his sense of self if he let it in now. Loki brushed the tears away in one swift motion and swallowed. Every fiber in his body strained with his effort to lock his emotions away and Frigga could sense his pain as clearly as she could sense the magical signatures humming through every fiber in the thick pane of Sei _ð_ r between them.

“Loki,” Frigga whispered.

“Go,” he pleaded, his voice rapidly changing from a sob to a growl and back into a sob as if he was speaking with two different voices. “And do not come back. And tell Thor to stay away as well.”

Frigga shook her head, placed the picnic basket on the floor and fished a little leather pouch out of her pocket. It was a powerful weapon she was not even supposed to have and she knew that Odin would punish her for what she was about to do. She did not care. She untied the pouch and, with a hiss, all the magic surrounding them streamed into it. The pane separating them dissolved. The illusion Loki had created of the cell and himself faded, and he was standing barefoot on a floor smeared with blood before her now, his hair unkempt, his eyes cried-red, the furniture and crockery behind him smashed to pieces. He hastily pulled his rolled-up sleeves down and a fragment of porcelain clattered to the floor behind him as he stumbled backwards.

“How many more times do I have to ask you to leave me alone?” Loki pleaded. “You cannot … I don’t … Just _go_!” he wailed but Frigga was already climbing into the cell.

Loki fled from her approach until he reached the wall and he pressed his back against it as if it would swallow him and protect him from his vulnerability, his neediness, his weakness.

“Come here,” Frigga whispered and pulled her son into her arms, feeling the sharp edges of his bones beneath her fingertips. Loki tried to jerk away at first, whimpering in protest, but she pressed him closer to her chest and eventually, he crumbled, sinking against her like the lost and frightened child that he was. Frigga sank to the floor with him, cradling his fragile body as he wept, his violent sobs choking every sentence he was trying to start.

“Shshhsh,” Frigga whispered, her lips brushing against his hair. “I am here, Loki. I will always be here.”

  
  
  



End file.
